the world keeps spinning
by Linzerj
Summary: Clockwork hates his job, sometimes. Especially moments like this, when he feels truly powerless. (Drabble - In honor of the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting one year ago. Now a two-shot.)
1. the world keeps spinning

Clockwork hates his job at moments like this.

He can only stare at a screen, helpless to act, or turn and watch the sand in the hourglasses suddenly rush to the end when they could have poured on for another few decades.

Clockwork knows everything, sees everything, but as per his agreement with the Observants he really is powerless to act, unless given express permission or if it does not permanently alter the time stream. But because he sees everything, he knows what those people could have become.

One of them could have become a doctor, well on his way to finding a way to cure cancer patients without damaging them further with chemotherapy or radiation or developing a vaccine for HIV.

One of them could have run for presidency, and upon her success she would have helped in the efforts to reform the United States into a more peaceful, stable country.

So many limitless possibilities.

But the parade can only go down one road. And unfortunately, that road is the one with the painful potholes.

Sometimes being the Master of Time really sucks. So much power hums at the tips of his fingers, and yet he can do little to release it, little of anything really. He could...he could save them all if he wanted.

But he can't.

(Accursed Observants.)

So he stares at his screens, gripping his staff with a white-knuckled grip, and replays the scene over and over, looking for tiny things he could manipulate to lessen the outcome, save so much grief.

(He can't, he knows. There are no loopholes... but he can try, right?)

He's cried, sometimes. He has a heart. He knows that these are innocent people, selfless people, people who deserve better. But death is a part of life, and souls as pure as those will not be held down by unfulfilled obsessions or sent below to a world of fire and brimstone. They will ascend, and be free of the horror of the world. Someday, their families will join them, and they will truly be at peace.

But Clockwork has felt tears welling in his eyes before as he watches the world pass. He wonders if he could manipulate Danny or Vlad or, heck, even the Box Ghost into a position where they could prevent the loss of lives.

The Observants keep him from trying. They're not that powerful compared to him, but he knows how many of them there are and he really doesn't want to take any chances. They'd leave the world more damaged than what the humans do to it on their own.

It makes him wonder, sometimes, how humanity even rose to such power. Then he goes back a few thousand years and watches the evolution of man and realizes it was probably just luck of the draw.

When he fast forwards again, he watches tragedies such as this and can't help but wonder about why he even had to allow humanity to rise. They could all be living happily as monkeys while super-intelligent mice ruled or something.

(...Yes, he realizes it sounds stupid. But it helps, just a little bit. He might be as old as the universe itself but he has a heart, too.)

Now, of course, the only thing he can really do is make sure all the little souls ascend safely, without any further mishaps. And he continues watching.

Because in the meantime, the world keeps spinning. It cannot stop because innocent souls were lost.

It's the way the world works, unfortunately.

Clockwork hates it.

But there's not much he can do, except hope.

(Because hope counts for something, doesn't it?)

* * *

In loving memory of the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary shooting almost a year ago now...and also the Aurora movie theater shooting, Columbine, heck every single victim of a mass shooting you can possibly recall...

Because they really were taken too soon.

(I do not claim to own Danny Phantom, or any recognizable characters. All rights go to Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.)


	2. the way it works

I don't own anything recognizable. Danny Phantom is owned by Butch Hartman/Nickelodeon.

-Another short little drabble tacked on here for Sandy Hook. Thanks to all those who read the first part of this, and thanks to those who favorited and left reviews. I'm glad you guys liked the way I took on Clockwork's character...

For the victims of Sandy Hook - Rest in peace~

* * *

Underneath the purple gloves his knuckles are most definitely white, Clockwork muses as he glares daggers at the Observants. Of course, being as _unobservant _as they are, they don't notice.

"...so we need you to relinquish the thermos."

"What?"

One of the two Observants scoffed. "Come now, Clockwork, don't act so surprised. We need you to relinquish the thermos that holds Danny Phantom's evil self."

Clockwork arched an eyebrow, red eyes glowing brighter with barely checked rage. "Relinquish the thermos? To you? Hmm...I don't see that happening.

"And before you ask 'why not,'" Clockwork continued as an Observant made to speak, "keep in mind that unlike _you_, **I** see all the possible futures and their consequences. You can only focus on one. Giving you the thermos would mean that we are one ghost short for the apocalypse you _know_ is coming; why would any sensible ghost risk total annihilation just for what he once was?"

The Observant grumbled. "Clockwork...we have orders."

"I know. But I am telling you that the High Observant will see the error in this, once you explain what I have just said."

They shifted, and Clockwork turned, growling. "Look. I am _busy_ right now. If you wish to pursue this, come back _**later**_."

The two Observants shared a glance, and then vanished from the tower, leaving Clockwork to turn back to his main screen with a sigh. "I cannot believe they didn't even notice the carnage happening right now," he murmured. "But what really annoys me-" he began to snarl here- "is that they won't even let me _try_ to make it right!"

"It wouldn't have happened if I was out, you know."

With a hiss, Clockwork spun and glared at the thermos sitting innocently on the other side of the room. The dents were old - the occupant had long since stopped trying to (futilely) escape.

"I **know **Dan. I know _everything_, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, timekeeper," Dan Phantom scoffed from inside the cramped Fenton Thermos. "Which is why you should let me go. Prove your point to those damn floating eyeballs."

"Dan," Clockwork growled, "now is not the time for it."

There was silence in the tower for a few moments, an eerie silence, broken only by a final bang coming from the screen.

"In my future, I had mastered making portals. I was there the second I caught wind of it."

"I know."

"Only that first teacher succumbed to her wounds. I'd saved the rest of them."

"I know."

"I was_ never **evil!"**_

_"_I _**KNOW**!"_

Silence again, this time shattered only by the soft ticking of clocks throughout Clockwork's tower. Eventually, Dan repeated in a whisper, "I wasn't really evil."

"I know, Dan."

"I was just...the emotions never really did leave. If anything they increased one-hundredfold. I was acting out in grief and self-preservation."

"I know."

"And I'd saved them."

"I know."

"...So why can't you let me free, set time back a few hours, and let me save them again?"

"...It's not the way it works," Clockwork muttered, shuddering as exhaustion suddenly overcame him. "It's...it's just...not..."

"I could always eliminate the Observants too."

"Thanks for the thought," the time ghost muttered sarcastically, "but still...I can't..."

"..." In the thermos, Dan shifted, leaning his head against the interior wall and propping his feet up across from him. "C'mon, meddler," he finally hissed. "Surely you can do something."

"The Observants and I have a deal. I can't mess with the timestream whenever I very well please. I can't save everyone. Nature must run it's course. It's just... the way it works. I honestly don't like it, especially at times like this..."

"Obviously," Dan scoffed, shifting again inside the thermos. "So why do you listen to them?"

"...They see me as...dangerous. It's self-preservation, I suppose. With a few certain...liberties. They're not quick to forgive but it's not like they can get another timekeeper from thin air."

And Dan laughed for the first time since he'd been locked up in the thermos about seven years ago. "Wow, Clocky. You're almost like me in a sense."

"Don't call me _Clocky_."

"Whatever you say, _Clocky_," Dan said with a grin. "But, what? No denial?"

"No. I know it's true."

"...So let me out. Please?"

"What makes you think a simple please will make me let you out?"

"It was worth the try, right?"

Clockwork hummed thoughtfully, attention on the screen again. Sirens were wailing, people were screaming...chaos. Needless violence.

_Nothing he could do._

But in another timeline, a former hero had managed to save most of the victims of such a senseless tragedy. And at least in one version of Earth, they were living happy lives.

Here, he could hope and wish and dream but it wouldn't happen. Their souls were free and the world mourned.

Unfortunately it was just the way it worked.


End file.
